PS If only I could tell you
by Noncomment
Summary: P.S Prequel series number four. Quatre finally found his resolve and decides that there is nothing in this world that is going to keep him from Trowa. It takes him four minutes to find out he is wrong. 3&4, Prequel to P.S I hate you. Read&Review.


Authors notes: Hello all, I hope you are enjoys my P.S I hate you prequels, just a note that some of the P.S Prequel between Dorothy and Relena, Zech and Wufei and Jackson are already up. If you are enjoying these little filets of mine please let me know I would love to hear from you.

Enjoy!

x_x

P.S If only I could tell you

P.S Prequel

AC 201

Quatre had a migraine, he double checked to make sure the note he had so carefully written was still in his pocket. The girl in front of him kept on babbling, sometimes not even in English, which didn't help him ignore her because Quatre was well versed in many languages. He did however try to ignore the tears streaming down her face.  
" I don't understand", she screeched. "You" she sniffed, "I" another dramatic sniff "I'm perfect".  
"I'm not disagreeing with that", Quatre said tiredly. "I just don't think you're right for me. You're a beautiful girl Nezzela, and any-".  
"Don't tell me that", she screamed. "I'm beautiful, many men would die to marry me", she smiled slowly, "one has". Quatre sighed. Her threats, idle or not, didn't faze him. "Nezzela may you please leave? I have had many pleasant times in the duration of my time knowing you; however none of them have actually been with you".  
"You bastard", she screamed, "you will pay Quatre Winner, no one plays with my money" Nezzela grabbed Quatre's Montblanc Meisterstuck Solitaire Golden & Black pen off the side of his desk, got up so forcefully her chair flew back. She lunged at Quatre.  
She felt herself being stopped in midair and gently being placed on the ground, all the while kicking and screaming, Quatre politely pulling his pen from her hand and returning it to its holder on his  
desk.  
"You never mentioned she was crazy", Trowa said smoothly. Quatre was a little surprised to see him; he glanced at his watch. He surprised himself sometimes; he listened to her hysterics for the greater part of an hour.  
"Thank you Trowa", he said with a nervous smile on his face, completely ignoring his now ex fiancée's incessant babbling.  
"Not a problem", he watched Trowa glance at Nezzela.

"Security?" Trowa asked raising an eyebrow.  
"It's alright", Quatre sighed. "I can handle this".

"Nezzela", Quatre said powerfully, "you will leave at this instant or be escorted out.." Quatre stopped speaking when he noticed Nezzela's eyes travel between him and Trowa, an odd smirk on her face. Quatre shivered at the negative vibe he felt radiate off her.

"He's the boy from your picture", Nezzela said staring at Trowa.

"Excuse me?" Quatre asked confused.

"You know that picture that never leaves your wallet", she smiled evilly.

"You went in my wallet?" Quatre asked calmly, he was angry but felt that showing anger unnecessarily gave the enemy an advantage, and Nezzela was the enemy.

"Of course", she replied, seemingly having gained her composure. "I couldn't have my husband running around without me knowing everything about him".

Quatre was more than glad he finally had the courage to break off his arranged marriage. Trowa was right, Nezella really was crazy.

"And I completely understand why you broke it off too, I seem to be lacking in area's others don't", she smirked, her accent dripping through her voice as she looked at Trowa.

"You can start with your personality", Trowa mumbled sarcastically.

"I hope it's worth it", Nezella stated oblivious to Trowa's comment. She walked to the door and roughly grabbed the handle, she paused before stepping through the door, "because believe me Quatre, I'm going to make you suffer", with that, Nezella slammed the door.

"Crazy", Quatre heard Trowa muttered under his breath.

He turned to face Trowa, instantly their eyes locked, Quatre blushed and looked away.

"Ready?" Trowa asked, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, and in a sense, Trowa would be right. From the moment they met the chemistry between the pair had been intense. Quatre could feel it with everything he did, and everything he said around Trowa. And the most important thing was, Quatre's heart told him that Trowa was right.

Trowa lightly grabbed Quatre's hand and led him to the elevator, through the lobby, and opened the door to Quatre's limo before Quatre's driver had a chance. Quatre tried to hide the blush the crept to his cheeks. When his other staff members opened his car doors for him he was annoyed, when Trowa did it however...

He sat down in the limo and noticed how Trowa sat close enough to him that their thighs constantly brushed. Quatre felt his mind wonder; his thighs intertwined with Trowa's, a blanket carelessly discarded by them, Trowa's lips hungi-

"Are you okay?", Trowa asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"Um, yeah", Quatre mumbled, embarrassed to be caught in daydream. "I'm just wondering how my family is going to take me breaking off the engagement".

"Well", Trowa dralled. "I for one never liked her".

Quatre felt himself stare into Trowa's emerald eyes, almost as if he was hypnotized every time Trowa looked at him.

Quatre giggled nervously. "My sisters did", he mumbled, "but I'm sure there's someone out there better for me".

"You'd be surprised", was Trowa's response, meaning weighing the air down.

The ride to Zech's annual Fall ball ended to quickly as the limo pulled up to the mansion. The driver stepped out of the limo and began to walk over to their side of the car to open the door.

He felt Trowa's hand move towards him leisurely and time slowed down. Trowa took his hand and moved a lock of blonde hair from in front of Quatre's eyes; Quatre hadn't even noticed it was there, he was too busy feeling butterflies flutter in his chest as his eyes locked with Trowa's, undeniable chemistry penetrating the air.

Their faces were now inches apart, breath now mingling, Quatre's eyes fluttered from Trowa's eyes to Trowa's lips, his breath hitched, less than half an inch separated their lips, and Quatre couldn't help but feel his lips part slightly and his eyes flutter close. He almost realised that all this time he had subconsciously been running his hand from Trowa's shoulder down his chest. The air between their lips was almost gone, Quatre had been waiting for this moment, he felt Trowa's and his lips brush against each other, he felt –

Cold air rushing into the limo as Quatre's phone exploded with a phone call.

"I", Quatre stuttered, he and Trowa had jumped, surprised. The moment ended, it was gone, and Quatre would have paid any fee to get the moment back. He realised if he was less of a person, he would of instantly fired his driver.

"Master Quatre, you have arrived", the driver said smoothly, moving so Trowa could first exit the limo. Quatre bit down a sarcastic response and sighed as his phone kept of ringing. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, the small piece of paper he had been protecting fell out. His heart skipped a beat when Trowa bent down beside the car and picked it up; Quatre had only bothered to fold it once.

In a gesture unlike the polished training Quatre was drilled in, he grabbed the piece of paper from Trowa's hand, cringing as he heard it rip. Quatre felt relieved that he was holding the bigger half, and concluded that whatever piece of the note Trowa was holding, there couldn't have more than one word on it, and whether it was a word from the beginning of the sentence or the end, it was the word in the middle that held all the weight.

"Okay", Trowa said raising an eyebrow, choosing not to comment on what just happened, whether it was because that was Trowa's style or the fact that Quatre's phone still hadn't stopped ringing, Quatre would never know. Quatre did notice that instead of giving him the piece of the paper he was missing Trowa deftly pocketed it.

Trowa looked at Quatre in the limo, "answer it", he said simply, "I know that's Rashid's ringtone, and he's not one to call and waste time". He smiled, then whispered in one of the most seductive voices Quatre heard...ever, "I'll be waiting for you on the dance floor", and in one fluid and sexy motion, Trowa was gone.

Quatre looked down at the phone in his hand that was still ringing. He signaled to his driver that he would be in the car for a minute attending to the phone call. Trowa was right, and in addition, it would be noisy in Zechs's mansion.

"Sorry about the delay Rashid", Quatre answered his phone, "how may I help you?" If Rashid wasn't one of Quatre's close personal friends that had saved his life many times in the past, Quatre reflected that he would probably be tempted to fire him too, it wasn't entirely the drivers fault.

"Nezzela?", Rashid asked.

"We both know she was only with me for my money Rashid", Quatre sighed. "She would have purposely gotten pregnant and then taken my son away from me in a scheme to secure money for her family. I want to make sure the Winner money is used for good. Too many have died Rashid, the nation is still war torn, after all these years".

"The press knows Master Winner", Rashid stated, "I'm calling you about a matter related to this". Rahsid paused and Quatre felt that not only was Rashid's next line going to be important, but it was going to upset him.

"I'm calling you to let you know you can't tell him".

"Can't tell who what", Quatre all but snapped back, even though he knew exactly what Rashid was talking about. Rashid was the closest thing to a father to him, but Rashid wasn't his father.

Quatre heard Rashid sigh; it was one that sounded laden with guilt and sadness.

"Today's the day Rahsid", Quatre said wistfully, then mentally scolded himself, "I'm going to start living for myself. I'm not deciding to be selfish, I'm not saying that I spend too much money on starving children or that cancer patients can find their own cure, I just want T-".

"The only thing that you can't have", Rashid argued back, Quatre could feel Rashid's temper rising even though he knew they were miles away.

"I dedicated my life through both wars for peace, and after that I dedicated four years of my life maintaining it, why don't you want me to be happy?"

"Happiness is the last thing I want to take from you, Master Winner, I owe you my life, but I will not let you ruin yours or countless others. Times have not changed. A person in your position is not entitled to the same liberties as others, you are the owner of the Winner Corporation Quatre, and all the power and influence it holds. You represent something bigger than yourself".

"I know Rashid, but it's time for change, and I'm going start –".

"If you lose the company", Rashid continued, ignoring what Quatre started saying, "which believe me, you will, your sister will run it".

"My sister is a great woman", Quatre stated with confidence, "Rashid, it's not the worst thing that could happen".

"But isn't it?" Rashid asked. "Your sister's solution to restoring a war torn nation is misguided. Building more fast food restaurants to provide cheaper meals? It endangers the few wooded and forest area's we have left, not to mention creates an unhealthy nation. For heaven sakes master Quatre, this woman is the same one that believes the solution to preserving endangered animals is dry-cleaning. She is a nice lady Quatre, but she doesn't have your ideals. This world needs good, and there are only so many good people".

"I know Rashid", Quatre snapped back annoyed. "But I don't think it would be such an issue, such a scandal that people would care that much about my personal life, even to mention it".

"You're wrong Master Winner", Rashid said sadly, "but still, I only wish you the best", with that Rashid mumbled a quiet goodbye and hung up the phone. With this Quatre reflected that Rashid must have seen the hour that it took for him to write the one line he wrote on his note to Trowa.

It didn't matter anyway. Quatre was firm in his resolve. Tonight was the night he would get what his heart had wanted this whole time.

The driver noticed he was off the phone and ran around to the limo door, opening it for Quatre. When Quatre stepped out he was a little surprised that he was impressed by Zechs estate. Zechs was quite the wealthy man.

Quatre slowly made his way into the house, politely saying hello to those who greeted him, studiously avoiding pictures. He noticed how young women would catch his eye in an attempt to get his attention, he ignored them.

Quatre walked through the house to the entrance of the gym. He noticed Duo cross the gym from the corner of his eye. Duo just had a rough mission, there was absolutely no reason Quatre could phantom why Duo would be here instead of the hospital. He made a mental note that after he found Trowa, he would tie Duo up, throw him in his limo and drive his crazy butt to the hospital.

He was then instantly distracted from his thoughts. Waiting for him in the gym, he caught his first glimpse of Trowa. His auburn hair was covering one of his emerald eyes, his sharp black tux making his eyes all the more alluring. Quatre instantly felt nervous, Trowa took his breath away.

Trowa must have sensed his staring, because their eyes connected, everyone else faded away; they were the only two people in the ball room, just like the limo. Quatre didn't notice the people he walked past to get to Trowa, he only realised he must of when he found himself standing in front of him, staring into his eyes.

"I have something for you", Trowa stated, pulling out a small silver and blue object from his pocket.

"It's a blue amber key chain". Trowa said. "Amber is usually yellow and orange, but rarely it's blue, I've had it forever, and now it's yours". Trowa looked directly at Quatres. "Do you like it?" he asked, and Quatre reflected that it was one of the few times he felt nervousness radiate from Trowa.

"I- I lov-". He was cut off when someone bumped into him, permanently breaking the moment.

"Oh you mean the Winner boy" Quatre overheard a pudgy man say pompously, oblivious to Quatre's presence not more than ten feet away. He seemed too engrossed in his conversation with Zechs, Noin and Relena.

"I heard he was having an arranged marriage but he cancelled". Quatre looked at Trowa, both of them wondering how people knew already. He had just broken things off with Nezzela no more than an hour ago.

"He is quite different isn't he?" a round lady commented, wearing more jewellery than her body could hold, which Quatre found a shameless display of wealth. "I mean... I heard he prefers members of the same sex".

Quatre froze. He felt his world slowly crashing to an end. He willed them to stop having the conversation. For someone to change the subject, for something to explode, even if it was everyone exploding into a round of applause at the live band. Nothing happened, but Relena.

"I don't see how anyone in this bureaucracy could be a homosexual" Relena commented in her most arrogant voice, and Quatre instantly knew why Duo didn't like her. "You can't possibly produce an heir with that way a thinking you know?"

Quatre felt the worse of the moment had passed and looked down, trying to stop the tears forming in his eyes. But, it continued, and got worse.

"Milliardo my son, you better not turn out like that Winner boy" Laughter ricocheted off the walls of the ball room, and Quatre felt that they were all laughing at him. All laughing at his new found misery, all laughing at the happiness he now could never have. His P.R. would be out first thing in the morning, proclaiming that he wasn't a homosexual, proclaiming that he had no feelings for another man other than friendship. Proclaiming the four year old lie, in honor of saving his company. And he would agree , he had to, too many orphans were depending on him, to many homeless people were depending on him, to many war torn were depending on him. He was forced to sacrifice.

At the end of his resolve, Quatre heard the icing on the cake. "Of course not," Zechs answered the groups question, "That's just preposterous." And Quatre knew that was it. His heart told him Zechs was lying, and if Zechs Merquise could do it, then he could do it too.

His eyes slowly turned back to Trowa's. He looked into the eyes of the man he loved and felt his heart break. Trowa was still smiling at him, oblivious to the conversation, standing in the opposite direction; he hadn't been close enough to hear it.

"So", Trowa asked him, a coy smile on his face, he pulled out the piece of paper that he had in his pocket, the piece of the note that was suppose to change everything, the piece of paper that now represented Quatre's heart.

"Trowa I, what?" Trowa asked, showing Quatre the piece of the note he held on to.

"Trowa, I, I, I can't tell you", Quatre stuttered, doing everything he could think of to hold back the tears, "and I'm afraid I can't accept this". He opened his hand to the key chain he didn't know he was clutching and slowly attempted to put it into Trowa's hand.

If his resolve didn't completely break his heart, the look on Trowa's face did.

"I don't want it", Trowa said smoothly but coldly. "Keep it; it's suppose to help you find true love".

Quate shivered when he felt the emotion leave Trowa's body, he felt like he was plummeting into a dark pool of nothingness. Just then Wufei stormed past him, and if on cue, Trowa nodded at Quatre and vacated the ball room, and Quatre, although he now could save the world could no longer save himself.

He replayed the conversation he had with Trowa, Amber helps one find true love. Quatre could not stop the tear that rolled down his face; he roughly dried it with his sleeve. He did find true love. Looking in the direction he last saw Trowa disappear to Quatre whispered to himself "If only I could tell you".


End file.
